


the dream where we pulled the bodies out of the lake

by okayantigone



Series: in nakano's blooming duckweeds [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, Angst, Angst and Humor, Arranged Marriage, F/F, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Slow Burn, Uchiha Itachi Lives, Uchiha Itachi-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okayantigone/pseuds/okayantigone
Summary: shimura danzo's shadow-work has been revealed by anonymous tips, and his involvement in the uchiha massacre has lead to his public disgrace ... if only anyone could find him.itachi uchiha has returned to konoha as a hero, whose self-sacrifice epitomizes the true nature of shinobi. he has been granted a seat on the konoha elder council, his health is slowly improving with tsunade's treatment, and his flower garden is doing well. the villagers hate him, the council is trying to trip him up at every turn, remnants of root keep cropping up, and hiashi hyuuga wants to limit his influence by forcing him into a marriage that is little more than an obvious grasp at subduing him.and while sasuke is happy to have his brother home, to have an explanation, to have peace, he is still a gennin, technically a reformed traitor, and his closest friends don't seem as keen on this whole forgiveness thing as he may have been led to believe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has bene living in my head for a while, and i'm very proud of it. 
> 
> please note that the lack of caps is completely intentional, and i apologize if this makes it hard to read - i've tried to make up for it with shorter paragraphs. 
> 
> i hope you will enjoy my take on the "itachi returns to konoha" au. updates will be frequent, but irregular, and chapters won't always be chronological, but i'll usually leave a note about that.

_“it would be foolish to challenge me, itachi-kun. i have killed many uchihas before. and you would do well to fear me, and who i am.”_

_“you are the one who ought to fear me. i killed them all.”_

 

 --

 

the uchiha compound is full of ghosts. every single floorboard bears the imprint of death. sasuke had not allowed it to fall into disrepair, to the best of his abilities, but he had been a mere child, left with a legacy of blood. coming back now, seeing it through the eyes of an adult – ~~through itachi’s eyes~~ , he recognizes that his efforts have been misguided.

 

he is grateful to have his brother by his side. or well. maybe not grateful. but certainly something. he listens to itachi’s steps beside him, slow and rhythmic and dignified. the wooden heels of his geta, and the tapping of his thin long ivory cane, the white color marking his blindness, and soft swishing of the many-layered silks he wears have all become a familiar sound now.

 

he slents a glance at his side – sure enough, itachi is there in the image sasuke is used to seeing – slender ~~emaciated~~  after all the long weeks spent in hospital, and paper pale, his long hair held up by the jeweled pins sasuke had fished out of the bottom of mikoto’s polished dowry chest, the one thing he had taken into his apartment when he’d left the compound all those years ago – he’d dusted the carved mahogany lid off, undone the golden clasp holding it closed, and found them wrapped in a strip of her wedding kimono silk, under the rest of the jewelry she had stepped into the marriage with. he’d presented them to itachi in hospital, the first day that he had woken up after surgery. itachi had felt them, recognized the familiar pattern of the stones, and cried.

 

he is quietly beautiful beside sasuke now, in his long crimson kimono, embroidered with black crows all over, and the uchiha crest meticulously stitched high on the collar. sasuke thinks that itachi looks more like a courtesan these days, than a shinobi, but it is only fair. he his brother deserves nice things.

 

his eyes stare ahead at the road, unmoving. they are beautifully polished, smooth glinting orbs of onyx, unsettling in their obvious artifice. itachi’s own eyes dart anxiously in sasuke’s sockets. no one dares speak a word when they are walking like this, side by side, though he knows the whispers will start as soon as they move from hearing distance. sasuke had wanted to take to the rooftops, but itachi wasn’t ready to face his old anbu comrades yet. he walked with quiet dignity as though the glares did not affect him.

 

sasuke couldn’t breathe until after they passed the threshold into the compound. itachi’s expression did not change. he did not throw himself on the ground, kissing it, and weeping for forgiveness, and screaming in guilt-stricken anguish. sasuke wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. they continued walking at the same slow pace. itachi turned his head a few times, as though looking around, or maybe following along the ghosts of memory as they faded in and out of existence.

 

itachi only stops in front of their house.

 

sasuke recalls the afternoon after shisui’s suicide all those years ago. the mark from the kunai itachi had thrown is still there, cracking their crest. the fence has aged poorly.   
  
itachi kneels on the street. sasuke winces inwardly. the dust will mess his lovely silks up. he doesn’t say anything though. itachi folds himself into a bow, his palms flat on the ground, forehead almost pressing to the dirt road. his lips move, but no sound comes out. maybe it’s prayer, or maybe he is asking for forgiveness. he stands up, picks his cane up again, and dusts himself off with surprising accuracy. his fingers curl around the cane again.

 

he passes the threshold and freezes, as though he expects the furious spirits of the parents to storm into him, and drag him under the soft ground.

 

sasuke had spent the weeks of itachi’s hospital stay ensuring the main house would be liveable for them. now his childhood home sprawled ahead, shiny and new. itachi did not falter further, as they walked down the familiar path.

 

sasuke had given itachi their parents’ old room. it opened right into mikoto’s flower garden, which was now made up of entirely empty flower beds waiting to be filled with dragon teeth, and the smoke from itachi’s opium would drift into the open space.   
  
sasuke’s own room was as far from itachi as he could get while sharing the same living space, but he had no intention of actually spending any time in the house, asleep and vulnerable. he figured he could always crash with sakura and naruto, and maybe even kakashi.

 

he could always just go back to orochimaru. but itachi was … there. his last family, at last. in their home. with all the blood washed clean, and their truths laid bare. itachi, who was blind, and sick, who had given sasuke everything ~~who had taken everything.~~ and sasuke couldn’t leave again. he just could not.

 

in the kitchen, itachi sits at the table gracefully. as de facto clan head, itachi had spent most of his hospital time going through documents, reviewing the state of the trust, the information on their properties. sasuke was grateful that someone else could handle these things now. it was always meant to be itachi’s job.

 

“i’m indefinitely suspended from active duty,” itachi says quietly. he has produced his opium pipe, and he is preparing to light it.   
  
orochimaru had indulged, sometimes, taking long deep inhales, ad breathing out violet smoke tinged with a sweet smell. the scent then clung to his long hair, and pale hands. sasuke knows, consciously, that itachi needs to smoke, for his pain.

 

tsunade had looked paler and paler as he’d been listing to her the chemicals he’d been taking over the years to keep his body going. he had never been trying to heal. just waiting. waiting, and waiting for sasuke to kill him.

“what will you do then?” sasuke asks. he wants something to do with his hands.

 

“i’m sure they’ll put me to some work, or other,” he says airily, but underneath the forced lightness his voice is hard. he moves his hand, and sasuke recognizes what is being signed to him. it’s the sign language of oto anbu.

 

_the house is under surveillance. we are being listened to. watch your mouth._

_i recognize four._

sasuke sighs.

 

“i wish we had more time to spend, niichan,” he crosses the kitchen, and puts his hands in itachi’s, so he can feel him signing.

 

_are they watching me? or you?_

itachi squeezes his hand briefly. _probably both._

sasuke sighs. “how about i make us lunch,” he suggests, moving away. fuck this. fuck konoha, and fuck coming back, and especially fuck itachi. he doesn’t want to play anymore games.

 

he should just run again. become a tomato farmer in rice country. or something. maybe he can change his name, and go to wave, and tazuna will take him on as an apprentice, and he will build bridges. that would be nice.

 

the kitchen is full of smoke and ghosts.

 

itachi’s blank eyes follow him as he starts chopping up vegetables for their meal. in the countless memories imprinted in itachi’s sharingan are more than a few recipes that he can easily replicate.

 

he wonders if this is what his life will look like from now on, and he does not like it.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i've decided to start using normal caps, bc apparently the no-caps thing is turning people off etc

Sasuke wakes up at the crack of dawn as usual. The house around him is dark and silent. He runs laps around the private Uchiha training grounds, and then moves through his katas. He walks through the empty compound, and the darkened windows follow him silently, like so many blank eyes.

Despite his best efforts as a child, the three years of his absence have deteriorated those proud buildings, and finely pruned streets. He announces his presence quietly, but there is no movement from Itachi’s corner of the house. The chakra signatures of the ANBU stationed around them are ever-present.

He tries to put them out of his mind and focus on the meditation techniques Orochimaru taught him while he showered. The hot water worked some of the tension out of his muscles. He closes his eyes and just stands under the spray.

It shouldn’t be so calm and rutinous. He’s back in Konoha. Itachi is still alive. His clan is still gone. Orochimaru is still alive. He’s still a Genin. It’s like the last three years hadn’t happened at all.

He dries himself off and gets dressed and stands in his freshly painted room, and realizes, for the first time in a long time, that he has nothing to do with himself. There’s no training to be done. There’s no pressing missions. Itachi is alive. His clan is gone. There is no longer a clear path of what he needs to do anymore. He wonders if Itachi is still asleep precisely because he feels, as keenly as Sasuke, that there is nothing else to do. Or maybe it’s the healthy fear is Tsunade and Orochimaru’s combined wrath of he steps one toe out of line before they tell him he’s ready for exertion.

He settles for making tea in the kitchen and cracking a few eggs in a pan for a simple breakfast. Itachi’s memories of such simple repetitive tasks more than make up for Sasuke’s fairly average skill in the kitchen, and it turns out quite good. There’s something hovering at the edge of those memories. Or someone. Almost like Itachi had tried to edit his own recollections. Sasuke wonders if it’s possible to tamper with Sharingan memories. Wonders what Itachi didn’t want him to know, even on the occasion of his eventual death. His brother, ever the magician, still keeping his secrets.

Itachi’s chakra signature is a small and steady thing. His breath is even and calm. Sasuke wonders if it would be childish to wake him and demand company. He isn’t sure how that would go. They are still cautious around each other, relearning how to be in each other’s company.

He decides to let him sleep, and take a peek at more of the Uchiha trust archives. He’s just spread out the scrolls on the kitchen table, when the ANBU materializes in his kitchen. Sasuke has activated his sharingan and drawn a kunai before the last leaf of the shunshin touches the ground.

“Sasuke Uchiha. Your presence is required by the Hokage.”

Sasuke twirls the knife in his hand and returns it to his pouch, his sharingan fading.

“Understood,” he nods.

The ANBU regards him impassively from behind his white mask and disappears. Sasuke sighs. He wonders if Itachi will be alarmed to wake up and find him gone, and then decides he doesn’t care. He’s just got enough pettiness left for that.

He takes to the rooftops, and debates getting into Tsunade’s office through the window, to avoid having to talk to anyone. But he’s already on her shit list, and he doesn’t want to piss her off further.

The only reason he’s not rotting in a prison right now is the kindness of her heart, and the only reason he hasn’t been executed for treason is Itachi’s quiet, polite reminder, that if they push for capital punishment, the entirety of Konoha can kiss the Uchiha bloodline goodbye, since he’ll be turning runner again.

He walks through the tower with his head held high. It’s as much as his Uchiha pride demands of him. He doesn’t meet Iruka-sensei’s eyes as he walks through the mission room, and into her office. He pretends like people don’t stop speaking, as soon as he passes them by, as if they don’t pick conversation up in hushed whispers.

Shizune is standing behind the Hokage’s desk. Next to her is Sakura, who is avoiding his gaze. Her face looks like it’s been carved out of stone – completely impassive. Naruto is sitting directly in a pile of paperwork, facing Tsunade, and talking to her animatedly about something, and she appears to be humoring him, her honey eyes warm, and her smile bearing a certain kind of quiet pride.

Sasuke feels panic rising in his throat. There is an itch under his skin to leave. He is keenly aware of how much he doesn’t belong int his room with these people. He has betrayed them all. He had just been trying to -

Tsunade looks up at him, and her eyes turn cold, her smile vanishing, as her painted lips press into a thin disapproving line.

“Sasuke Uchiha.” She says his name quietly, but it’s enough. He stands still to attention.

Naruto bristles beside her, and turns around. He is smiling, but it’s strained.

“As it is,” Tsunade begins, “you and Naruto are still at the rank of Genin.”

Sasuke bristles. It was part of his probation – traitors did not exactly make great chuunin candidates. Tsunade keeps speaking.

“While Naruto qualifies for a field promotion, due to his work with Jiraiya, he has turned it down-“ She sends Naruto a withering look, demonstrating just how much she disapproves of the decision.   
Sasuke feels a pang of something he can’t quite place at the thought. Naruto’s dream had taken so many hits over the last three years. Stupid, stupid idiot. “And he insisted he be placed on a Genin squad with you. Since Sakura has been promoted already-“

Sakura nods silently, but she still doesn’t look at Sasuke.

“You will operate as a three man squad, of two Genin, and one Jonin. Of course, this is just to appease the council, who’d rather have you operating as a cleaner in prison.”

“And who will -“ Sasuke cleared his throat. This was the first time he’d spoken, and he was aware that everyone’s attention was on him. “Who will be our squad captain?”

Tsunade smiled, and in that moment Sasuke felt a shiver run through him. Behind her, Sakura’s impassive face was now a mirroring expression.

“Me.” She said stepping forward.

Naruto nodded, like he’d been expecting it.

“Kakashi-sensei’s back on active duty.” Naruto said, as though he was expecting Sasuke to blow up at him. But Sasuke wasn’t about to discount leniency when he saw it- Tsunade could have stuck him with someone who hates his guts just as easily. At least he was on a team with his friends. Or something.

Were they even still friends after everything that happened?

Considering the withering looks they're both giving him, maybe, the one thing he always thought he would be able to count on - Naruto's friendship - is not so constant after all.  

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itachi adjusts to semi-civilian life, Sasuke adjusts to being a genin again, and apparently the Icha Icha novels are a joint international team effort production.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is thoroughly unedited, and was, in fact, written while i was enduring 2 different tv sets blaring contrasting noise at me, and my family having a massive easter day argument so -shrug emoji- if you spot any mistakes shout at me

 

Shisui is floating in the waters of the Nakano. It’s a warm summer afternoon, lazy and bright. Itachi is laying in the grass, flat on his back, his ANBU mask discarded on the ground beside him. Shisui swims with slow, lazy strokes, his svelte body graceful like a water snake.

 

“Come in the water, Itachi-chan!” he calls out. Water droplets cling to his lashes. “It’s so warm, and nice.”

 

Itachi stands up in a fluid movement, meeting Shisui’s warm dark eyes, laughing along, his head thrown back. He walks through the tall reeds, his bare feet sinking into the moist brownish dirt.

 

“Come on!” Shisui beckons him. “There’s something I want to show you!”

 

Itachi’s feet touch the water.

 

“Here?” he asks, still smiling, warm from the sun, eager to wash the blood that clings to his skin beneath his nails.

 

“Yes,” Shisui says. His voice sounds off, and when Itachi looks at him, his skin is sallow grey, cheeks sunken. “Here,” the sound is coming out of his mouth is hollow, and his full lips are brown with rot. His kind warm eyes are empty, and suddenly, those arms that had once been the safest place in the world, grip Itachi’s shoulders, and force him under the water.

 

“Here, where you _left_ me. You _lied_ to me. You _failed_ to protect them.”

 

He wakes up gasping, and part of him is convinced he is still drowning, because everything around him is dark, dark, dark. He runs a hand over his eyes, his fingertips recalling to him the sensation of absence. He is blind now.

 

He reaches around himself in the bed for his cane, and the edge of his robe, pulling it around his shoulders. He slides out from between the watm nest of blankets and straightens up. His spine pops loudly when he stretches.

 

The house is completely silent around him, and he can’t sense Sasuke’s chakra signature anywhere near, nor can he sense the ANBU from the night before, which probably means they were there to watch Sasuke to begin with. Either he’s being underestimated – something he has mixed feelings abour, or Tsunade is respecting him enough to give him a semblance of privacy and not treat him like a criminal, considering the fact he never was one to begin with.

 

He makes his way slowly to the kitchen, realizing that he doesn’t know what time it is, but also – that it doesn’t really matter. There is no mandatory training, and no impending missions. Nothing but a long stretch of free time, and the threat of Tsunade’s wrath if he tries to do anything more strenuous than fluffing his pillows.

 

He thinks about the things he could do with that time. He will visit the Uchiha shrine, light incense, and pray for their forgiveness, and then he will return to the strenuous task of reviwing all the books from the last few years, to determine how to best go about renovating the compound, and he’s sure Koharu has already found paperwork to bury him in for the next fifty years, before he even steps into duty officially as part of the council.

 

Before all that, he intends on having a simple cup of tea, to help swallow his medication, and then smoke his pipe on the terrace overlooking the garden.

 

Clearly, fate and the universe have other plans. His body moves on instinct to avoid the kunai, and it embeds itself in the wall right beside his head with a thunk. He sighs. It’s going to be one of those mornings then. He suddenly sorely misses the ANBU guard, and his secure ward hospital bed.

 

He flips the cane in his hand, drawing out the blade inside it, and taking a stance.

 

“Whoever you are,” he says quietly. “I am sure that you think you are stronger than me, and can take me. But I assure you, that you are not.”

 

Uchiha are trained for blindness from childhood. Their power is terrifying, and it comes at a price, and they must always be ready for it. He remembers his father tying a cloth around his eyes, putting the chopsticks in his hand, and then smaking him over the knuckles every time he spilled the food on the way to his mouth, and failed to observe his manners. That had been the beginning. He’d been preparing himself for blindness for years, had felt it coming, had known…

 

And his attackers… did not know. Did not expect him to be ready. He wasn’t so arrogant as to think he would have stood a chance without the element of surprise on his side, but whoever expects a blind man to throw kunai at them, and not miss?

 

His body still remembers how to kill. He can count three remaining opponents, trying to close in on him an cut him off like this isn’t the house he grew up in. Like he hasn’t killed in this house before. One of them is light – either a woman or a child still. He weaves the genjutsu without signs then slides effortlessly behind them and slices through their throat. The other two are trying to throw him off  with wind and earth styles.

 

 _And Sasuke put so much effort into fixing the house,_ he thinks, sourly.

 

It’s not the longest fight he’s had. Possibly, his reputation did some of the work for him. He kneels by one of the corpses. His robe is soaked in blood, and it isn’t going to come off. He slides his fingers over the forehead protector.

 

_Oh, Danzo. What have you done?_

He wipes his blade on the already ruined robe, and slides it back into the body of his ornate cane. He stands up, and touches the pendant at his chest, more out of habit than anything, thinking a quick prayer to a god he doesn’t believe in.

 

He summons his crows. It would be easier to get rid of the bodies with a fire jutsu, but he needs to keep some of their identifiers, for when he inevitably confronts Tsunade about this. Now that he is blind, the flock is his eyes, and he rewards their usefulness with a feast. Unlike Orochimaru (and he supposes now Sasuke’s too) summon, his do not demand payment in human sacrifice, but it is always nice to be polite anyhow.

 

He pulls the kunai out of the wall, and runs a hand over the mark there. What a mess.

 

After their fight – after almost dying by Sasuke’s hand, and missing it so, so narrowly, he doesn’t remember a lot. Sasuke had spoken with Madara, or at least, with the man who claimed ot be him. Had come back for him. Had dragged him to the nearest of Orochimaru’s labs. The girl – Karin – had put some of her skills as Orochimaru’s top researcher to good use, although biting her hadn’t seemed to be enough to stabilize him completely (he still isn’t entirely sure how he feels about not even remembering that, although she reassured him repeatedly that it was fine, and she was used to it).

 

He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for days, and then he’d felt a familiar chakra presence that put him on instant alert.

 

_“How are you still – “_

_“Don’t sweat the small details, Itachi-kun. I can’t reveal all my secrets,” Orochimaru had said, not unkindly, while running a hand over Itachi’s closed eyes. “You want me to give these to Sasuke, is that right? You’re stable enough now, that I should be able to run the operation without shocking your system too much.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“You don’t have to thank me. I help you now, and then, maybe, in a few years, you will help me in some small way. Besides, I think you and I both know who the real enemy is.”_

_“Dan – “_

_Orochimaru had hissed sharply. “Yes. The rat. Who better than a snake and a crow to get rid of a rat?”_

_Itachi had… forgotten how nice it was to have Orochimaru on his side._

_“I can take care of your eyes too, you know,” Orochimaru had said. “I can grow you a new pair from Sasuke’s – “_

_“No!” the panic had risen unbidden in his throat. “No. I don’t want, I don’t – don’t heal them.”_

_“Very well. Shall I lie to Sasuke-kun then, and tell him I wasn’t able to  -“_

_“Please.”_

Being left alone with Sakura and Naruto felt… Odd. Unpleasant. He had always thought – in those brief moments, when he did think about returning, that it would feel natural. They would simply fall back in line. Why else would they try so hard to bring him back?

 

But it’s been three years, and he isn’t the only one who’s changed. Sakura and Naruto are talking about places they’ve been and people they know, and things they’ve done. Life in Konoha hadn’t simply stopped with his absence. They had all moved on – he surmises that all their old classmates have been promoted.

 

He walks a step behind them silently, and pretends he isn’t being glared at by half the village. He wonders if he should talk to Anko about this whole “being Orochimaru’s student leads to nation-wide ostracization” but they’re circumstances are different enough, he’s pretty sure she’ll try to claw his new eyeballs out.

 

“Should we,” he begins, and then stops speaking. Even before, it had been like this. For all that they didn’t get along, Sakura and Naruto had managed to communicate, to talk to each other. They had tried to draw him in conversation. Now they weren’t. “… have lunch as a team?” he finishes lamely.

 

Naruto stops talking, and Sasuke almost walks square into his broad back. He turns around, his blue eyes wide, and disbelieving. Then he cracks a smile.

 

“Sure,” he says brightly, and the forced cheer in his voice is painful. “Ichiraku ramen! And it’s going to be your treat!”

 

Sakura is looking between the two of them. When before her eyes were full of a blind love and admiration, now there was a wariness there, like she expected him to strike at any minute. Because that’s what he had done. Always, he had repayed their kindness with violence. They wouldn’t say it of course – they were making a valiant effort. But he read it in their faces.

 

“Sure,” he said, apathetically. “My treat.”

 

Naruto whooped, but it lacked gusto.

 

He could only relax when the flaps to Ichiraku’s stand closed behind them. Teuchi greeted them with a smile, like Konoha’s second most notorious traitor and recently reformed missing nin hadn’t just come into his shop. Now he was shielded from the palpable dislike in the air, and he could finally appreciate Naruto’s love of the place. He’d only been experiencing the collective dislike, and fear of every man, woman and child in the village for a few weeks, and already, he was feeling it get to him. Naruto on the other hand –

 

Was not living like that anymore, he realized. Naruto was their hero now. Or soon to be one.

 

Right now though, he was chattering to Ayame, swinging his feet, and grinning broadly. Sakura was perusing the menu curiously, and definitely -yes – avoiding him.

 

“Maybe,” she said slowly, “We should order the ramen to go. And go eat it uh – “

 

“Probably a good idea, Sakura-chan,” Naruto said lightly.

 

“We can go to my house,” Sasuke offered quickly. He was already feeling guilty for leaving Itachi with no message. He could bring him lunch to make up for it. Or something. Guilt was a powerful, and unpleasant emotion, and he was experiencing all kinds of it lately.

 

Surprise flashed in Naruto’s eyes again, but he accepted it in stride, smiling, with a tinge of his usual kindness. “Oh sure! It would be nice to see how Itachi-san is doing!”

 

Sakura nodded pensievely. “He better not have done anything more strenuous than fluff his pillows today,” she murmured threateningly. 

 

She, along with Tsunade, Shizune, and half of the T&I division had been spending the most time with Itachi in the time he’d spent in Konoha’s hospital. Orochimaru had done his best to heal Itachi enough to travel, but in his own words, he was a necromancer, not a medic.

 

_Sasuke had let himself into Orochimaru’s private chambers as he usually did, without knocking or announcing his presence. Orochimaru had scrolls spread all around him, and was writing things well beyond Sasuke’s comprehension of medical ninjutsu, down._

_Itachi was curled up in the bed beside him, looking unbearably small. The tight white bandage around his eyes was a stark contrast to his dark hair. Through his eyes, Sasuke recalled the same thing happening many times during Itachi’s first years in the Akatsuki, falling asleep beside Orochimaru after a bloody mission._

_“He wanted to talk to me, about ensuring you have an undisturbed journey to Konoha, and I slipped him a mild soporific,”_ _Orochimaru says by way of explanation. Itachi is, according to him, every medical professional’s worst nightmare, in his blatant disregard for his own health and wellbeing._

_His sensei looks up at him, his golden eyes glinting._

_“Any complaints, Sasuke-kun?”_

_“I – no. I wanted to – “ Words do not fail him often. He had been raised as the next thing Konoha had to royalty. He had manners and politics drilled into him from a young age._

_“Yes?” Orochimaru arches a pencil thin eyebrow._

_“I wanted to ask you something. About me brother.”_

_“I assure you, that with Tsunade’s help, Itachi-kun is looking at a full recovery within the next few months. He may even be able to return to active duty, if he so wishes.”_

_“No, no, that’s not - . I mean. Thank you. For healing him. Us. Thank you for healing us.”_

_“It is not like you to thank me, Sasuke-kun. But the sentiment is appreciated. If not about his recovery, what do you want to know?”_

_“Back in the Akatsuki, when you and Itachi were partners, did you ever – uh – “ Oh, if only he could have Naruto’s brash disregard for manners, and go out with it. Thankfully, whatever mind-reading jutsu Orochimaru seems to be using all the time around him, to guess his exact thoughts, kicks in, and he just nods, raising his hand to stop Sasuke from speaking._

_“I know what you’re asking, and the answer is no. Itachi-kun was running a bit too young for my tastes back then, and even so, I had entirely different designs on his body than what you are implying.” He rubs his wrist self-consciously, recalling the phantom pain of Itachi’s blade slicing into the bone._

_“But there was… someone?”_

_“Yes.” Orochimaru says, nodding. “But I don’t know who it was, or how long it went on for. In any case, I think this is something you have to ask of Itachi-kun himself, if you are curious.”_

_“I just wanted to know… that he wasn’t alone the whole time.”_

_“He wasn’t,” Orochimaru reassures. “Although, for people like Itachi-kun, alone is a relative term. I suppose you can’t understand that. You are very talented, and brilliant, but you are not a prodigy the way Itachi-kun is, and the way I am. For us, often, it’s… different.”_

_There is no arrogant inflection in the words, merely a statement of facts._  
  


_“I know that, I just – “_

_“Yes. I understand.”_

_Sasuke nods once. Itachi shifts in the bed beside Orochimaru. The older man rests a hand on his forehead, and shushes him._

_Sasuke bows. Quickly, and a little stiffly, and not as low as he normally would, be how bows anyway._

_“Thank you, sensei,” he says quickly. It’s the only time he’d ever called Orochimaru that, and he makes his way out of the room before the other man can reply._

He walks between Sakura and Naruto, his hands laden with the takeout boxes from Ichiraku. They flank him, their expressions politely blank, and their eyes hard. It feels odd, to be the one needing their protection, but he’d had a decent amount of experience getting rotten fruit lobbed at his head in the last few weeks.

 

When they get back to the compound, it is as still and silent as ever. Itachi has opened the screen door that opens his room towards the garden, letting air and sunshine in. He is wearing one of his spending kimonos – this one is a beautiful pearl white silk, with red cranes painted on, and rimmed with golden thread. His pipe is smouldering on the vanity table. He is putting his still shower-damp hair up, carefully dipping Mikoto’s jeweled pins in the vials of poison before sliding them home. A small pot of tea steams beside him. He looks serene, and undisturbed. The house smells like blood, but there is nothing Sasuke can see out of the ordinary. It’s still as shiny and clean as the day the contractors were done with the renovations.

 

Sasuke deliberately makes noise when they get in.

 

He sets about putting plates on the table, while Naruto eagerly unpacks the ramen boxes.  
  
Itachi walks in slowly, his cane tapping lightly on the floor. He has a small, polite smile on his face.

 

“Sakura-san, Naruto-kun.” he greets, inclining his head. His artificial eyes gleam in the light of day.

 

“Itachi-san,” Sakura smiles brightly. “How’s your first day at home been?”

 

Sasuke is certain that this table is different from the table they had in the kitchen yesterday, and there’s definitely one chair less. Was that painting of the Nakano always hanging on that wall?

 

“It was a very slow one.” Itachi reaches a hand, feeling for the back of a chair, and takes a careful seat. “I’m following my doctor’s orders,” he adds, smiling in her direction.

 

“Are you only now waking up?” Sasuke asks, though he doesn’t mean to sound as accusing as it comes out.

 

“Yes,” Itachi says plainly. “I won’t lie and say I’m not enjoying being able to take my time doing things.”

 

“Enjoy it while it lasts. Baachan has a pile of paperwork already waiting for your immediate attention as soon as you get sworn into the council officially,” Naruto says. He piles Itachi’s plate with food, and nudges it at him.

 

“Oh, dear,” Itachi says, as though being a desk shinobi who smokes his pipe all day and takes three hour long lunch breaks to drink tea and gossip about the active duty jonin hasn’t been his life’s goal since he was a child.

 

Sasuke takes a seat at the edge of the table, armed with a knife and a ripe tomato. It feels off, having Itachi sitting there as well, talking to Sakura and Naruto with such ease, making jokes about Hokage paperwork, like he has any right to –

 

To what? To be here? After everything? To have friends?

 

In Sasuke’s heart there had been no room for forgiveness. There had been no room for friends. Itachi wasn’t meant to be flourishing like this, laughing and smiling, and picking at his food deftly, and having casual conversations with _Sasuke’s_ friends, insinuating himself into a life that _Sasuke_ should have been able to walk into with the same effortlessness.

 

He takes a deep breath, and stuffs his mouth with tomato. He isn’t Naruto. He’s not about to have a tantrum. Itachi saved his life. Had been saving his life. All these years, all this time. The threat of his anger and violence had been Sasuke’s insurance.

 

“So what’s your plan for your newly acquired team of unruly genin?” Itachi asked lightly, and Sakura laughed in a way Sasuke had never seen he rlaugh before, throwing her head back, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

 

“I am going to have them run D-ranks until they drop,” she said, and in that moment, Sasuke felt a malevolent evil from her that he hadn’t felt from Orochimaru himself.

 

“Sakura-chaaaaan, that’s mean!” Naruto whined.

 

“And the Chuunin exam?” Itachi asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

“We’ll sign them for the one in Konoha in two months,” Sakura said. “A few people didn’t pass the last exam, when it was held in Suna, so we’ll sort them out with a third teammate from that crop of students, for the initial portion, and then we’ll let them unleash hell and mayhem.”

 

“If they pass,” Itachi said lightly.

 

“If they pass,” Sakura acknowledged, giving them both a significant look. Sasuke and Naruto shuddered in unison.

 

Sasuke was mostly silent while they talked. Itachi was asking about people that he had known – his old ANBU teammates, Sasuke guessed, and the state of current events the way it wasn’t just on paper, and entertained conversation with Naruto about Jiraiya – who had been instrumental in corroborating Itachi’s statement about his work for Konoha behind the scenes all these years, and their training journey. Sasuke just listened.  
  
Konoha was no longer his village, no longer his home. He’d spent the last three years training, learning. Orochimaru liked to finish his evenings with a cup of sake, and the reports of his spies throughout the elemental nations, and the letters he and Jiraiya passed along like lovesick schoolboys, but Sasuke hadn’t wanted to know. He hadn’t cared. His life would end with Itachi’s death, one way or another.

 

He had the memories now, of Itachi, sitting outside, with rain drizzling down around him, as his crows brought him news of the village, as his spies reported to him, before he executed them for their treason.

 

“… and then,” Naruto was saying, waving his hands dramatically, even though Itachi couldn’t see him, and Sakura loked close to smacking him, “Ero-sennin fell RIGHT into the WATER, and the women all started SCREAMING – “

 

Itachi laughed. It was a soft huff of laughter, polite and restrained like everything else Itachi did, but it was there.

 

“Oh speaking of Ero-sennin – “ Naruto dug in his pouch, and then reached across the table. Itachi met him halfway, his hand reaching with surprising accuracy to take the book out of Naruto’s hand.

 

“This is the newest Icha Icha,” Naruto said, “Still technically unreleased. In Braille.”

 

“Please thank Jiraiya-sama for me,” Itachi handles the book delicately, flipping the pages, and running his fingers over them.

 

“You read that trash?” Sasuke asks, incredulous.

 

Itachi arches an eyebrow. “I am one of the pre-publication reviewers,” he says flatly. “At first it was a way to pass messages along to Jiraiya-sama, but the plot really picks up around the seventh novel in the series, and then Kinoe cheats on Miko, and the love triangle closes, and I ended up becoming quite… invested. I still prefer his more philosophical fiction, though.”

 

“Right.”

 

“You never read them while you were in Oto?” Naruto asks turning to Sasuke. “Doesn’t Orochimaru do some of the light editing work?”

 

“The what?”

 

“Ero-sennin said he sends copies ahead to creepy sage all the time for critiques and comments, and to… you know, try to convince him to come back to Konoha and all – “

 

“Oh my _god_.” Sasuke pressed a palm to his forehead.

 

“You really didn’t know?” Sakura asks. “Even Tsunade-shishou knows – she does the medical jargon adaptations.”

 

“Why is everyone somehow involved in the publication of this …”

 

“Contemproary erotica?” Itachi suggests with a straight face. “Like I said – a good way to pass along information. “And my book reviewer pseudonym is Kuro Karasu.”

 

“Original,” Sasuke snorts.

 

“As if anyone has figured it out yet,” Naruto says, laughing.

 

Sasuke looks between the three of them. Maybe he can do this. He can at least try.

 

And that painting definitely wasn’t hung up on the wall before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those who found the flashbacks confusing: essentially, after hearing the truth from Tobi, Sasuke rushed a still-alive Itachi to the nearest Oto hideout, and he, Karin and Suigetsu made concentrated effort to save his life, while Juugo was on the lookout for enemies. Orochimaru survived Sasuke's attempt on his life by completely taking over Kabuto's body, and decided having two Uchiha alive is more useful to him. He operated on Itachi's eyes, transplanting them into Sasuke. Then he communicated with the Rice Country daimyo, and Jiraiya to ensure their passage into Konoha, without them being killed on sight. Jiraiya corroborated Itachi's story about the massacre, and his work as a spy on the Akatsuki, and pushed for Sasuke to not be executed, since he technically never took any direct action against Konoha.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

He’s been cleared to start taking light walks.

 

While he still luxuriates in being able to sleep in to his heart’s content in the mornings, and getting dressed and putting his hair up takes him the better part of the remaining morning hours – he does enjoy burning some incense or a candle, having his tea, and taking his time with his hair and his face – Itachi reserves the later hours of the afternoon for a bit of exercise.

 

He picks his cane up, and walks the compound grounds carefully, tapping it against the cobblestone and listening to the way the sound echoes through the empty buildings and streets. The empty buildings and streets that he cleared of life all those years ago. Sometimes he imagines himself surrounded still by the laugh of his cousins and aunts and uncles.

 

He doesn’t let himself indulge in the fantasy often. The older genjutsu users get, the more trouble they have distinguishing fantasy from reality. And he has worked too hard to let himself go, become a screaming husk of a man, talking to dreams that aren’t there.

 

But talk to dreams he does, as he takes his customary evening walk along the Nakano, to the shrines that had been unattended those last few years. He cleans them and straightens them all on his own. His knees ache from kneeling on the stone for so long. He walks slowly, and leans on his cane. The tall watergrass catches in the folds of his kimono. He imagines the green and gold embroidery on the white silk glimmering in the real grass, making him part of the picture.

 

He feels the chakra signatures before he hears the rustling of the air. He parries the blow with his cane, and unsheathes the blade. It’s blessed steel, and it’s useful at the oddest of times, such as now. He’s started going through his katas in the evenings, and before he starts active duties on the council, he will be cleared for light sparring. For now, he relies on his blade, and his crows.

 

There is silence around him, and he strains to listen for where the next attack will come from. He’s managed to land a blow, because he can smell the blood.

 

“I’m sure you think you can take me,“ he says quietly. “I assure you that you are wrong.”

 

A less charitable part of his brain – one that always suspiciously sounds like Shisui – says _no one has more experience dumping dead bodies in this river than you._

 

He’s not wrong.

 

He makes quick work of the attackers – there’s only four of them, and this is his home turf. He walks into the waters of the river, and it weighs his silks down heavily as he washes his arms up to the elbows to make sure he won’t smell like blood. He keeps their hitai-ate’s.

 

He’s exhausted by the time he returns to the house, and Sasuke isn’t home yet.

 

Itachi lets his kimono fall to the floor, and crawls between his bed covers, gripping the handle of his cane.

 

The day after, the late morning sun finds him meditating on a cushion on the porch, a stick of incense burning in a shallow dish beside him, lids closed, pulled taut over his artificial eyes.

 

Beside him, Sakura Haruno is enjoying the tea he made for her.

 

“I think come next week, I should be able to clear you for some light sparring,” she says pleasantly.   
  
“Oh, that would be nice,” he agrees. He’s been sparring more than lightly, as voiceless men with Konoha headbands keep trying to take his head, but he sees no reason in telling her that. If Tsunade is trying to do away with him quickly in the good night, she probably won’t have told her protégé. And if It’s not Tsunade… well. No need to raise alarm.

 

“I don’t understand why I have to do this,” Sasuke says for the fifteenth time that day.

 

He and Naruto are mending the fence and repainting the Uchiha symbol back to its pristine form and colors.

 

“You’re a genin, and this is a D-rank,” says Naruto cheerfully. He tackles this task, like any other, with endless gusto and optimism, giving it his best.

 

Itachi-san is smiling like a saint.

 

“Would you rather strangers go about our lands?” he asks, not indelicately. “By assigning this mission as a D-rank, I pour solid gold into Konoha’s coffers as a sign of goodwill, while also ensuring our residence is in a wonderful condition, and that you don’t slack off and sulk around. It really benefits everyone. And when you pass the Chuunin exam, I’ll have you reorganizing the library.”

 

“If he passes the Chuunin exam,” Sakura says lightly.

 

“Oh, yes. My bad. If.” There’s laughter in Itachi’s voice. Sasuke can endure a bit of light ribbing for that. But not a whole lot of it. And he certainly didn’t envision spending the months before the exam repairing fences, fixing roofs and cataloguing house archives. Maybe he should have seen it coming. Exonerated or not, his brother is, after all, a notorious sadist.

 

Their mission of fence-repairing complete, they make their way back to the Hokage tower, walking in the formation that’s become their shield in the past few weeks. Sakura and Naruto on either side of him, glaring down anyone who so much as looks at Sasuke sideways.

 

Iruka-sensei greets Naruto and Sakura with excitement, and Sasuke, with a slightly cooler smile. He looks at Sasuke like… like he’s a _disappointment._  
  
“Your next mission is a D-rank,” he says. Naruto high-fives him. “You have been given a set grocery list. You are to pick the following groceries up from the precise shops liste on it, and deliver them to address.”

 

“What poor frail old lady are we aiding?” Naruto asks cheerfully.

 

Iruka gives him a disapproving look. “I’m not sure the Head of the Uchiha clan will appreciate your ringing endorsement, Naruto. You know very well Itachi-san isn’t up to venturing into the village just yet.”

 

“Now he’s just mocking me,” Sasuke snaps.

 

“You can’t substantiate entirely on takeout ramen,” Naruto says seriously, pulling a surprisingly good impression of Itachi’s Concerned Brother TM voice. “His words, not mine.”

 

“I hate him,” Sasuke grinds out and snatches the list out of Iruka’s hand. _Hand-picked green tea from Frost country and a jar of dried tea roses from Amegakure, at 600 ryo pet 50 grams? Who NEEDS that?_

“To the merchant quarter, my brave genin,” Sakura says brightly.

 

Who knew being a genin sensei would be so easy? No wonder all the hard-hitting jonin were clamouring for the gig after a few years of active service. Compared to her work in the hospital this was a breeze.

 

Sometimes, she could even let herself forget for a moment who Sasuke had become and why.


End file.
